Slave of the god of Mischief
by OpaliteMoon
Summary: Loki gets bored being locked up and left all on his own, so when he gets in the mood, he plucks an unsuspecting human from Earth. What, he has all sorts of weird powers, you thought this wasn't one? You know you've been waiting for this. Loki x OC pairing. Wouldn't have posted this without my friend's support- shoutout to Thomas and Connor!
1. Slave To The God of Mischief

I opened my eyes, and I had no idea where I was.

I didn't feel subdued, dozy or hurt in the slightest. I was more aware than if I'd just been asleep. I simply felt disorientated, because I didn't remember falling into this enchanted slumber I'd just awoken from, and I didn't know this room.

A glance around it told me it was simple. Like some frame of ancient minimalism- for as the décor, the books, and the (few) furnishings smacked of some age long past, it was still tasteful and somehow modern. A golden glow was cast around the room. However, it had an air of...frustration. It was hollow, and resented. I'd always been told I was bright and intuitive, and I trusted my instinct. This was not a home. It was a residence- and a begrudging one at that. Some may have called it a prison. So, that was established.

As alienated as I was, for some unknown factor, I was unafraid. That was, until I made to rise off the floor and further explore my surroundings. In doing so, I found I was trapped. Bound to a mirror I was slumped against.

Then, the panic began to rise in me.

At first, I convulsed and fought, battling my bindings, but to no avail. I couldn't even see them, arms tied behind me as they were, but they were not coarse or unpleasant rope. It was some slippery fabric. But it was strong, and I couldn't see it or locate a knot at all. However, I found I could slowly work the bindings up the mirror itself, so, slowly and deliberately I eased them up the length of the mirror until I was stood upright. And then, I saw him. And he spoke.

"Well done, mortal. It only took you, let's see...twenty of your earth minutes to merely get to your feet". His tone was a smug purr, deep, and a little unsettling.

I couldn't see him, at first. But then I spied him, sitting in make-shift throne, directly opposite me. I had no idea how I had missed him- even from the floor, he would have been in plain sight. It was a confusing and bizarre reality.

I looked him up and down. He was pale, and his features were sharp- his face was not cruel or sage looking, though. He appeared perfectly- mischievous, was the only word for it. His expressions were in constant flux, between smirking, wide-eyed curiosity, smugness, and something I could only describe as hunger. His body, from what I could see of it, was lithe but strong. His taut muscles strained against his military-cum-legendary clothing. He was not un-good looking. I scolded myself for weighing up my captor. This was not the time or place, however much human instinct urges one to check out every new specimen.

I felt I should be terrified, scared, but for some unknown reason, again, I was not.

All this analysis had taken place in a mere few seconds, but he noticed it. It brought on a sly half-smile.

"Do you like what you see, mortal?," he posed, gesturing to his physique as he stood up from his throne.

My mouth was dry. "I-".

He was pacing towards me. "Well, do you?".

His eyes locked with mine, and suddenly, the dam of terror that had been building in me broke and flooded into my mind. I had nothing to say.

His eyes flashed with triumph.

"So easy to control your emotions, you puny scum. You, are nothing. I don't know why I bother, it's too easy to play this game".

He grabbed my chin, and I gasped in a small intake of breath.

"...your eyes, so wide with _fear..._".

He let go and turned from me, hands behind his back, pacing away slowly.

Then, suddenly, he lurched back towards me, and again, I shied back in shock, pressing myself to the mirror. He laughed, one small, derisive note, and then took my face in both of his palms. His hands were soft, his fingers slender and smooth in their actions, as he held my face intimately close to his own. My heart pounded like a drum. I felt his cool breath on my lips as he next spoke.

"I could go ahead and have my wicked way with you, and you'd be too weak and fragile to do a thing".

I swallowed.

I was somewhere I didn't know, with a stranger who seemed like he was about to rape me. I was terrified, cowering in fear, and completely unsure of what to do, when a passion rose in me.

'Why are you just sitting there, you fool!" I chided to myself, "Tell him you're not scared, you're more than this!".

And so I did.

"I wouldn't let you touch a hair on my body, you sick bastard!". I spat at him, square in the face.

For a split second, he appeared shocked. Then, angry. Then, amused. He backed up again, and as he wiped my spittle from his face, he tasted it on his fingers.

"Oh, I do like a bit of fire in them. Tell me...," he began, moving towards me, "Would you really not let me even touch you?".

"No!," I hissed.

He was close again, too close.

"Could you really do anything, if I tried?".

"I would wrestle and scream and bite to the end. I don't want you and I DON'T consent so LET ME GO!".

He chuckled, darkly. His bright eyes bored into my own.

"You would never, want me to touch you?".

"No" I stated, more quietly. The fight in me was fading, and his new demeanour told me this was the prelude to something.

"That sounds like a challenge to me," he purred, his jaw brushing my cheek, as he moved down to my neck. Suddenly, his lips ceased to speak as they planted soft, cold kisses along my jawline. I shivered. It was jarring, and terrifying...but it was electric.

"Stop..." I began.

"Oh, shush. You know you enjoy it".

He began to suck on my neck, and lick it. His tongue caressed the most sensitive parts of my neck in the most erotic way possible. I was supposed to resist, something in me was telling me. I was supposed to be struggling and screaming and...biting...

As he bit my neck, I bit my own lip, holding back a moan of desire. He smelt so good. How did he smell so good?

"S-stop...".

"There's no use struggling, woman," he whispered, his breath tickling the nape of my neck. He pushed me backwards, and suddenly, there was no mirror anymore. Either this was some strange dream, or this man, had powers of some sort. Both were bizarre, but in this moment, I just wanted to experience and feel his motions.

He moved his lips upwards, towards mine, and silenced my soft moans with his tongue. It was again, electric and sensual, his tongue inside my mouth, both of us panting as we passionately kissed.

He drew back, lips wet with saliva.

"Still adamant for me to leave you be, hmm?," he teased.

I was dazed and a little drunk on his kisses.

"Yes. No. I-...don't touch me!".

He gave me a doubting pout.

"Please...?," I ventured uncertainly.

He paid no attention to my plaintive and half-hearted objections, and instead recommenced kissing me, this time his hands sliding up the fabric of my top. He sought out my exposed breasts, and oh, how exciting and sordid it was for them to be out and have him be transfixed by them. First, he felt them, groping me, pressing against me, growling a deep and satisfied "Mmh". Then, he played with them, thumbs circling over my nipples and sending ripples of pleasure through me. I could feel his member, hard and erect, pressing against my own pulsing groin.

He slithered down my body, placing his mouth now on my breasts, repeating the same motions on my neck here instead. The effect was instantaneous, and I gasped then moaned a deep, long moan. He snickered, and smirked at me, before using his tongue to flick over my hard nubs of nipples, causing me to bite my lip to hold back the sounds of pleasure that would have otherwise escaped them.

His mouth busy, his hands now began to move down, pulling down the fabric of my pants from the inside, exposing my underwear. My breath hitched in my throat for whatever he was about to do. Then, his fingers, oh his cool, dexterous fingers, found their way into my pants, then inside me. He knew exactly what he was doing, his fingers played with the sensitive bud between my thighs, rubbing and caressing in a circular motion, then stroking inside of my very body, all whilst his mouth was busy on my breasts.

I was being rather loud now, panting and moaning and squealing. I'd forgotten now all about escaping, about anything else. I was in absolute heaven, when his mouth moved to between my legs. He bit and caressed the inside of my thighs with his mouth as he did my neck, leaving me a shivering wreck, teasing me for what was to come. I waited with baited breath, and then-

Oh!

My already slick inner parts were suddenly being eaten out by his expert tongue. I cocked my pelvis against his jaw involuntarily, just adjusting for the best feeling, and slowly thrusted up and down. He flitted between flicking motions, sucking, licking, rubbing...it was just...so good. The pleasure built and built in waves, until I was moaning like a whore, rubbing my own nipples to compliment his input, and then, suddenly, the world came crashing down around me in absolute and pure, sensual bliss, my hips thrusting into his fingers (imbedded deep inside me) as I came.

After, I lay exhausted and panting on the floor. He played with my wet clit and brought on a few last, involuntarily thrusts and squeals, and then watched me aptly.

"Now, since I won that challenge, I believe I'm owed a favour myself".


	2. A Debt Owed

I looked up at him. Hazy from orgasm, fear now stabbed into my stomach as his icy stare locked with mine. He was still a stranger, not to be trusted- albeit with certain skills and charm. Suddenly, I felt very naked and self-conscious. I awkwardly pulled my top back down, awkwardly crossing my arms as I ventured with my question.

"What sort of 'favour' would this be?".

Currently, I was trying very hard not to stare at his very evident erection. His eyes twinkled.

"Oh, I think you know. You've proven yourself to be at _least _aware of the concept of foreplay.".

"...Can I leave?".

The fire in him had gone. I seemed to amuse him.

"That's for me to decide".

I was starting to worry about exactly what he wanted from me. My Mother once told me it's always worth trying to ask, so I did.

"Am I not free to go? Please?"

He looked stern as he answered me.

"Freedom is a lie, mortal".

Maybe I was about to answer with "_My politics teacher would disagree_", but as I opened my mouth, he silenced me with a fierce kiss. It dissolved my half-hearted pleas. When he pulled away, (somewhat to my disappointment) he looked into my eyes, his face still close to mine. There was something hungry and frustrated in those eyes.

I felt another metaphorical stab in my abdomen, but it wasn't in my stomach this time.

He hadn't moved an inch.

"If I loosen your bindings, do you promise not to make things difficult?".

Until now, I hadn't noticed that the bindings had re-appeared, and once again I was bound to the mirror. As I turned and noticed them, in a moment of panic, I wrestled with them again. He turned my head back to face his. He answered his own question.

"...Apparently not. Now, come here...".

His fingers ran along my jaw, not pulling me but leading my lips to his. My arms were bound back, and I was half-sat on the floor, leaning against the mirror, and he sunk down to join me, straddling my awkward form. A few times, he pulled back from my face just to look at my lips and return to me. I couldn't get over how good he smelt. Like sweat, and leather, and some masculine perfume. It was enticing. I felt like a teenager.

His hands crept up on me, and soon again they were exploring my flesh. My T-shirt disappeared again, and he was everywhere. There was static under my skin, and every time he touched me he seemed to ground it. We were a tussle of clothes, limbs and breathy noises. Once again, his fingers were wet. He pulled away, and let me watch as tasted one. As he came back my waiting lips, he grasped one of my hands, freeing it somehow.

"Promise not to do anything naughty if I free you.".

In a moment of perfect humour, I replied, "Unless it's to you".

He flashed me a grin. "Correct".

He undid my bindings, and we continued to kiss. But as my eyes were closed, I felt his hands on mine, and he guided one to his crotch. I didn't expect anything less, I owed him a favour so to speak, and I was willing. I explored the shape of it through his clothes, and this friction made his breath catch, and with haste he loosened his pants. The reaction made me wicked. Here, I had a degree of control...so I decided to use it.

I pulled back from his jaw, lingering a moment on his lips, and swivelled around him, forcefully pressing him against the mirror in a last kiss. My forthcoming took him by surprise, and the confused look on his face was a small triumph for me. I could take back some control from him. I drew away, and backtracked down his body, making a show of coyly licking my lips before tracing the outline of his erection with my tongue.

He shivered. I giggled.

I had a bit more space to work with down here, so I made a show of slowly undoing his pants. I fumbled a little, and was more urgent than I'd meant to be in doing it, but he was still hooked. I bit my lip as I relieved his pants of his hard member, and waited in a very obvious silence for a while, biting my lip. Then, I scrabbled back up his body, softly kissing him. Wet kisses, as I slipped my tongue into his mouth, and his member into my hand, and started to pump it up and down.

He moaned, and his hand went to mine and led me to a faster rhythm and harder grip. We were intimately close, and he slipped his fingers back inside me. We crouched nose to nose, exploring each other, breathing heavily.

Then, he began to push my head down.

I took his hand, moved it away, and went back to what I was doing. The head of his member was now slick, damp like morning dew, and pressed against my navel. He pushed me off, a hard look in his eyes, and stood up.

I crouched on the floor, wounded.

"Kneel." he teased.

I stared up at him, defiant.

This time, he commanded. "_Kneel._" .

Too meek to do anything else, I got onto my knees, my head at level with his groin. He pushed my hair behind my ears, and pushed my head towards his appendage. I took it in one hand, drew back the foreskin, and after wetting my lips...

He moaned, his eyes rolling back.

"...Good girl..."

I got into a rhythm, using my tongue, using my cheeks to suck. He pushed his fingers through my hair, pushing me down with each dip. He let me rest a moment, tilting my chin up to face him. Of my own will, I went forwards and tasted the tip, all whilst still looking at him.

"In the end, you'll always kneel," he breathed. "Now, get up."

I did as I was told.

"Turn around and bend over."

I was terrified, but did as he asked. Everything I did felt charged. I leaned into stance, making an angle with my body, leaning over against the mirror, back to him. I watched his reflection from between my legs with baited breath.

Slowly, he pulled down my pants, his hungry eyes savouring every detail. The tiny wave of flesh that caught the fabric, the crinkles in my pants, the hues of my bare skin exposed in the light. His face was a show all by itself. He caught me looking, catching my gaze as he tutted and waggled a finger.

He then looked away, distracted by the sight in front of him. I'd always been rather proud of my buttocks, they sat on my hips curved and soft without a trace of cellulite. He seemed content with them too. His hands, like his manner, were mischievous, and I'd learnt quickly that he teased with his fingers, leaving tracks everywhere and brushing against me in just the right way. But now he didn't tease, or touch softly. As with my breasts, his hands became full and his movements purposeful. With one hand, he massaged one cheek, stroking it smooth before spanking me. I let out a strangled sound, and his eyes flitted back to mine, maintaining contact as he continued.

He traced his fingers slowly up the sides of my thighs, he hooked his thumbs around the lace either side of my thong. He was very deliberate about pulling it down slowly, as he could see the rapt anticipation in my face. I breathed out, previously unaware I'd been holding my breath, as they dropped soundlessly to the floor in a slither of lace. He pressed his face against my ass, opening the cheeks, and in one fleeting movement tasted me as I gasped. Then, he got up himself.

"I'm going to enter you. I may not be one for morals, but I need to know you're okay with this".

I nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. It had been a while since I had.

He eased it in from behind, one hand snaking around my waist to touch me from the front. My chest rose as he fully inserted himself into me. My breathing was jagged. He kissed my neck.

My breathing hitched on every breath, my chest rising and falling with my hips. He started slowly, driving himself into me, and at my question sped up. Sometimes my breathless panting evolved into louder, more erotic moans as the tides of pleasure swept over my mind. I was breathy, my eyes fluttering, his aura next to my face. He seemed to be intently watching the mirror I was pressed against, which depicted in precise detail every thrust as he entered me.

He withdrew, and I turned round and pushed him to the floor. I seldom took control in these situations, but here, I wanted to feel like I owned him. I straddled him, my hips rolling over him, my breasts bouncing as we fucked. He rolled me over, and took over himself. My eyes fluttered. Everything, everything was building up. The sensation. His smell. My smell. His noises. His busy hands, even now working to make it feel better for me. I took a few last, ragged gasps, and my eyelashes fluttered as the world exploded around me. My own spasms sent him reeling, and he pulled out, finishing on my stomach.

We were both panting heavily as he collapsed by me. The world stood still for a few delicious moments. Then, he rolled away from me and stood up, his chiselled, pale body now shining in a veil of sweat. He was still panting a little. He smirked. The insecure girl in me hoped it wasn't at the thought I had surrender all too easily. I looked away a moment, realising my own skin was coated in a sheen of sweat. Maybe now he would give me answers. Or at least a shower. When I looked back to him, he was as I first saw him. Fully clothed and unperturbed. I didn't understand how. The side of his lips twitched again, and then, he began to walk away from me.

He was leaving?

"Where are you going?," I squawked, caught off guard.

He stopped a moment, spun on his heels, then was suddenly at my side, tucking away a strand of my hair. He brushed his lips against my neck, his words tickling my ear.

"Don't you worry, kitten, I'll be back for you soon enough".

"But-," I began, planning to continue with something around the likes of :"Where am I?" or "What do you want from me?" or "Sorry, I never caught your name?". He cut me off, pressing a finger to my lips.

"Shh, everything will be fine," he purred, "But right now, I have things to do and you're not one of them. But you please me, so you can stay." He made to leave again.

"Can I have my clothes back?," I blurted. "Also, what's your name?"

"I am Loki," was all he offered."Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to destroy Jotunheim."

And then, he was gone.


End file.
